Trying To Pick Up The Shattered Glass: Cal
by ChetvornoHoro
Summary: The Titanic sinking caused many changes, especially for Caledon Hockley. But from these changes, and the help of some people, Cal grows into a caring man, full of compassion, selfsacrifice and patience, in order to save his precious wife: Rose
1. Self pity, self hatred

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story takes place after the Titanic. Caledon Hockley found Rose and they eventually married, but things are not all fine and dandy. And it's all up to Caledon Hockley to fix everything. And sorry, but Caledon Hockley is not the one-dimensional bad guy in this story he's changed since the Titanic sinking. And sorry if this chapter is just a wee bit short. Other than that, enjoy.

CHAPTER 1.

_June 9, 1912_

It was a quiet Saturday night. Caledon Hockley looked outside the window of his comfortable home. Inside was warm and lovely, but outside was a different story. As usual it was raining. It had been raining almost non-stop for three days, and so far, the weather wasn't showing signs of getting better. Instead, it continued to rain, with lightning lighting the sky ever so often. The raindrops tap-tapping on the ground outside and rolls of thunder were only sounds. Everything else was silent.

Cal, feeling numb and lifeless, was trying to read a book, trying to take his mind off his newfound worries and anxieties. But instead, he was looking outside the large window in his living room, just staring at the rain and the lightning, sitting in a cloud of misery and self-pity. For the first time in his life, he felt as if he was on the verge of a mental breakdown. He reminded himself everyday, that he couldn't give in though. He just couldn't. Why? Because upstairs, locked in his bedroom, a beautiful but sad creature was struggling with her own emotions. A woman that needed help. This woman was the reason why Caledon Hockley placed his own failing mental health aside. She was having a much harder time that he was. He had to stay strong to help her. He was all she had, and she needed him. _Desperately needed him._

There were times though when he didn't feel any need to help her. Those were the times when he hated her–hated her for everything she did to him. Why should he treat her with such care, when she treated him such disrespect? He asked himself that question almost everyday, ever since that day...

And then there were times when he hated someone else: himself. He hated himself for everything he was in the past. He hated himself. _It's all my fault, _he would say to himself, and he would no longer hate her, but hated him for being so cruel, so terrible, so hateful, so...God, he tried not to think of himself before. But when he thought of himself, how he was before everything tumbled out of order, he excused her for everything she did to him. He couldn't blame her for what she did. His hate would soon turn to pity. So, instead of hating her, he would worry over her instead.

He worried about her now. He was hoping she would get better. But instead, she only took a turn for the worse. She stayed locked in their master bedroom all day now. She slept all day, and he was positive she stayed up all night, weeping or just lost in thoughts. Her body wasn't taking well to the change. She was getting weaker, and Cal was sure it was the body wearing away from lack of food. He couldn't remember the last time he saw her eat a proper meal. He didn't want to think of what she was doing to herself. He just hoped and prayed she wasn't doing anything to cause him more strain and more worry.

He snapped out of his trance. He couldn't just stand there and watch helplessly as she died a slow death inside and out. He decided to take action. Now. He called his maid, Marta, and ordered her to prepare the meal. After she left, he went upstairs to see his wife, Rose.


	2. Cal, Rose, and Titanic

Chapter 2.

For a good three minutes, Cal stood in front of the door, wondering what he should do. He always went through this, every time. He ended up knocking on the door, tentatively.

"Rose," he said, barely a whisper. He listened. No answer. He called again, this time louder. But still, nothing. So, instead he sighed, and let himself in.

The first thing that caught his eye was his wife laying on the bed, just staring into space, depressed and pathetic. Her eyes showed eyes of fear, as he moved closer to the bed.

Rose Dewitt-Bukater Hockley was, in almost everyone's opinion, an extremely beautiful girl. She was only seventeen, but she was already a beauty. He could remember the first time he met her. She was very tall with a lovely, curvy shape. She had smooth, clear, skin that looked like porcelain, and lovely red hair in gentle natural curls. Her eyes were a blend of green and blue, and they seemed to be full of fire and passion. Still a young girl, her eyes were as bright as that of a child. When Caledon Hockley first saw Rose, he knew he had to have her, and quick; he was sure that he wasn't the only man looking at her.

But sometimes, beauty, beneath its golden surface, can be the root of evil. It can cause problems, especially in a blossoming young woman like Rose. Rose, being a typical teenage girl, was well aware of her good looks, and sometimes used it to her advantage. She knew she was pretty. She knew she could have any man she wanted. And that's what she wanted. Someone besides Cal. She hated him in the beginning, and most likely still did. She hated her mother when she was told she had to marry him. His name on someone's tongue was enough to make her cringe. It was hard to believe it, though since she took a liking to him on the same day she met him. Rose was sure she would be happy with this man. Yes, he was a quite handsome and a charming gentleman. His looks and chivalrous manners made him hard to resist. Yes, he was extremely wealthy, and that would help Rose and her mother with their money problems, which came about when Charles Dewitt-Bukater gambled away their money, and suddenly died, leaving the two women to worry about their future. Actually it was the main reason why Ruth Dewitt-Bukater was forcing Rose into an early marriage. She was depending on Rose to "save" her from losing everything she was accustomed to. Rose's mother wasn't ready nor willing to give up the luxurious bubble she always lived in. So, in the beginning, Rose agreed to the marriage of Caledon Hockley because he was handsome and he would solve all the financial problems. He was like a real life Prince Charming who would come and save the day, and end all the misery.

But as time passed, she began to feel like a naive little fool. She thought Cal would love her, and she would love him, but she began to grow wisdom and understand that he wasn't here to love Rose. He was there to help her family. She didn't love him, it was complete infatuation, and it was the same way with Cal. He liked her because she was pretty, and he could show her off like a trophy or a prized horse. He knew he was going to be the envy of all of his friends. Here he was, Caledon Hockley, walking around with a young, pretty bride! What man wouldn't want to have what he had?

And in the beginning that was all Cal cared for. He only cared about Rose's looks and how she must always keep up appearances for the sake of his reputation. Cal's father was Nathaniel Hockley the steel tycoon, and he was extremely wealthy, and everyone looked up him. And Cal was his only son, who was, for the majority of his life, an egotistical, snobby, manipulative person, with quite a heart of ice. He was a person that took his ego and his status a little too serious. Appearance was everything to him. Rose was part of that appearance. To Cal, she was a possession, a doll, something used only for a show. Rose almost felt like a whore with him.

When Cal looked back on the kind of person he was before, he couldn't help but get a little irritated. He was controlling. He knew Rose was the perfect target for manipulation, since she was young and a little naive. He never thought it would be a challenge to control Rose.

But to Cal's surprise it started out as a challenge. Rose was not your ordinary girl. Once he began to control her, she fought back. She would fight back in a very quiet, subdued manner, making biting sarcastic remarks. He learned quickly that despite her beauty and youth, she was an intelligent woman with a sharp tongue.

Controlling Rose wasn't the easiest task in the world for anyone to do. After all, she was still young and had a good deal of spirit. But Cal wouldn't let it go. He couldn't bear the fact, that a seventeen-year old _girl, _who was going to be his _wife_, had the nerve to go against him, to disagree with him, to tell him "no," who dared argue with him. If there was one thing about Cal Hockley that everyone knew about, it was that Cal always got his way. Always, no arguments. He was right, you were wrong, he was superior, you were inferior, he lead, you followed wordlessly, end of story. Cal was used to controlling people all his life. He was used to being intimidating, and in a way enjoyed it. And when he didn't get his way, or when he wasn't in control, he turned angry. And Cal always had a very vindictive, violent temper.

He never showed mercy for Rose. He didn't care for Rose, in a humane way. When she became too much for his control, he did what he called "slapping her into line." He always made sure, however, that Ruth never found out what he was doing to Rose. Even though, now that he thought of it, he was quite sure that Ruth wouldn't care if her daughter was being verbally and physically abused by her fiance. Honestly, Ruth proved to be a selfish mother.

In the end, Rose, who learned to be fearful of Cal, took his abuse silently, and finally succumbed to his demands. She allowed him to control her, insult her, treat her like a child, or just a doll or a trophy. She didn't see any reason to tell her mother. Her mother wouldn't believe her, and even if she did believe her daughter, she would ask Rose to deal with it, for the money.

Yes, Rose was scared for her life, and she lived through the abuse, but she never gave up hope. She promised herself that Cal could take her freedom, but he would never take away her strength or her spirit. She was sure that someday, someone would help her. She was waiting for love most of all. All her life, she wanted to be loved. And give love too, because she was filled with a need to give love to everyone. She thought she would find that wonderful feeling in Cal. But, since she didn't find that in this cruel, abusive man, she figured she made a mistake, and was determined to find love in someone else. Because she was pretty, and men had been looking at her with lust since she was a fifteen, she figured finding love wouldn't be so hard for her.

And in the end she did find it. And a world of problems and emotional death. All of those things happened on a ship that will be remembered forever–Titanic. She went on the Titanic with her mother and Cal. They were all going to America for the wedding. Rose dreaded this Titanic from the second she stepped out of the expensive new car, and found herself standing in front of it. She hated the people she was surrounded by, these narrow-minded people, who never had anything of importance to say. And most of all, she hated Cal, who placed a bondage on her, and her mother, for seeing it, and allowing it.

Rose nearly gave up strength. She almost committed suicide, but at the last minute, she didn't. Why? Because she was saved. She was saved by a man named Jack Dawson. And Jack Dawson was a boy who was a little older than she. He came from modest beginnings, and spent his life taking care of himself, after his parents died. They came from two different worlds; Rose lived in luxury, sheltered from the sufferings of the lower class, while Jack was poor, sometimes living on the street, making his money doing odd jobs here and there, mostly selling his paintings.

But it didn't matter to them. Regardless of the fact that they were like two galaxies colliding together, they fell in love with each other instantly. Finally, Rose found someone who loved her for what she was on the inside. It was as if God answered her prayers finally.

Cal knew about it. And he knew that if he let it go on long enough, he would lose her. And as usual of him, he became intensely jealous. He tried to pull her away from the boy. But he soon found it was too late. The damage was done. Rose was already involved in an affair with Jack.

Jealousy turned to hate. He hated Rose. She fooled him. A child fooled him! He never felt so..embarrassed in his entire life. He gave her a good slapping for what she did.

After he slapped Rose, it seemed as if God punished them both.

When the Titanic hit an iceberg on that same night everything came into light, the ship, which was thought unsinkable, began to sink. Caledon Hockley never felt so scared and so horrified in his entire life. He was scared for his own safety, but most of all, Rose's. She left to find Jack. She ran off to be with him. She was planning on running away with him. Fifteen hundred people lost their lives on that ship that night. And that's what haunted Cal. Seeing all those people die, seeing those people struggling, but never have a chance, just horrified him, nearly drove him to tears seeing all those dead bodies. And the thing that made him feel horrible was that he survived and witnessed it. Why did he live? Why were those innocent people chosen to die? Why did he have to see that happen? He saw the bodies of children frozen in the water. Was that fair to deny them the right to have a full life, and Cal, a man of thirty to continue with his life? It made him feel sick and now, he began to question his existence. He looked back at his past life. He thought about what he did to help others. He couldn't remember a single act of pure kindness coming from him. He thought about the kind of person he was. He never thought of this before, so he went through a state of confusion. He didn't know anything about himself. He didn't know what kind of person he was. He didn't know who he was.

And then he thought of Rose. His first thought was, _She's dead._ He thought of Rose, and tried to remember her. And suddenly, he stopped thinking about her beautiful surface, and looked deep into her. He concluded that Rose was unlike any other woman he had ever met–intelligent, good-natured, with a beautiful spirit. She was beautiful inside and out. And not only did he overlook it, but he tried to destroy it. And in a way, Cal felt a bit guilty, for he believed that it was his fault she died.

When he found that Rose was alive, he was so happy that he surprised himself. He was overjoyed to know that Rose was alive. But when he found her, and met her, he hardly recognized her. She sat there wet, scared, and shaking. He took her home, and to his large house, and a week later, they were married. It was a quick, disappointing wedding. Rose was depressed and only Cal could see that.

She never changed her mood since then and she only got worse. Cal found himself missing his old Rose, the old spirit. But he doubted it would ever come back. It was as if her spirit was at the bottom of the Atlantic with the Titanic, as if it collapsed and died away like a candle.

Jack Dawson, the man Rose loved more than her world, had died on the Titanic. To her, all hope died with him. She promised herself that Cal wouldn't take away her spirit. And true, Cal never did that. The death of Jack Dawson did.

She spent months mourning him and mourning her spirit, and feeling sorry for herself, because she let Cal get her. And now, she was trapped for life. She was scared of him. Suicide was definitely in her future.

But Cal was damaged too. He was still in shock from the Titanic. He was scared for Rose. He didn't completely change. He was still the same selfish, controlling man he was before. But another Cal was rising up. Another one that was desperate to help his wife. He was changing, and he didn't even know it half the time.

He stared at his wife in bed, no longer the pretty, headstrong girl she was before. Her eyes were dull and lacked emotion except fear. Her hair was stringy and dirty. She seemed much older than her seventeen years.

He tried to touch her, but she backed away. He tried to coax her.

"Rose, " he said in his proud voice. "Why don't you..come down for dinner, hm?"

Rose shook her head.

"You need to eat something." He said this softly.

Rose tried to sit up, but failed. So she said in a very weak voice, "I'm...I'm not hungry."

Cal nodded. "All right then," he sighed, as he got up from the bed and walked toward the door. He was about to leave, when he stopped and looked back at Rose. "You _will_ eat tomorrow though," he said, his old controlling voice crawling back up.

And as he walked out, he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Rose shudder.


	3. Enter Leila the Temptress

AUTHOR'S NOTE: A new character is added to this story. Don't worry, she will serve a purpose later in the story. Keep reading and find out how. Anyway, enjoy.

Chapter 3.

Rose was certain that she would never love Cal, even if they stayed married for a hundred years. Very little people in her world knew her experiences with Cal. Very little people knew her real thoughts on Cal. Only Cal knew it. And her mother knew about her experiences and her thoughts too. And on the other side of town, a Miss Leila Kingswood, knew Rose's thoughts–but knew nothing of her experiences. That is why it was much easier for her to fall for Caledon Hockley.

There were many differences between Leila Kingswood and Rose. They both shared one powerful thing though. That was beauty, but they had different kinds of beauty. Where Rose, being a young girl, had innocent natural beauty, Leila possessed what people called "dark beauty." She was older than Rose and had the looks of a woman full of seduction and also, mystery. She was shorter than Rose, but her more sensuous figure made up for her disappointing height, and she only wore dresses that showed off that beauty. Of course, she showed off as much as she was _allowed, _heaven forbid anyone to think of her cheap or lacking virtue. Her skin was a little darker than Rose's but not tan, and her face was a lovely shape, and the way she held it, it made her look taller. Her eyes were not bright like Rose's, they were smouldering black eyes, but very cruel, and seemed to glare at you. Her long, thick, black curling hair, which was always pinned up in an elegant style, was what caused men to give a second (or even third) glance toward her way. She seemed to be something out of a fantasy, pure temptation.

Like Rose, she also knew she was pretty, but her vanity was intense, and began at a much earlier age, as did her womanhood. By the time Leila was a girl of twelve, she was already looking like a woman of twenty. Men were already looking at her, and she learned to take it in, as well as feed it by the time she was thirteen. Of course, being a young girl who looked far beyond her years, it gave a reason to enforce tighter corsets on her. And, since chastity in a girl was highly valued in her time and surroundings, her family became overprotective of her, out of fear she would disgrace their name.

She almost never worried about her future. She was wealthy, and during that time, a girl coming from as much money and prestige as she did only have to worry about one thing: finding a husband who would take care of her and, hopefully, her sons. Leila was an attractive woman, and her mother made sure she knew that, and kept it up. For Leila Kingswood, finding a husband was not going to be a challenge . . . or so she always assured herself. Now, she was a twenty-one-year-old woman, still living with her mother and father. She wasn't married yet. All of her childhood friends were married with families. Even her younger, plainer sister, Annabelle, who was nineteen, was married, and expecting her first child. But Leila, who was the sensuous beauty, the girl everyone believed would be married by her eighteenth birthday, was still not married. She wondered why men were such cowards, why they wouldn't come to her instead of standing there staring, and talking about her like she was some great, expensive jewel. She grew contemptuous of men. It's half the reason why her eyes are so cruel.

But despite her growing contempt for men, shealways had a soft spot for the handsome, and charming Caledon Hockley. She had an intense crush on him ever since she was fifteen, when she first heard about him. What girl wouldn't want Caledon Hockley as a husband? On the surface, he seemed like a god.

When Cal was looking for a wife, she was sure he would choose her. And besides, he met her on some occasions at parties and he seemed to enjoy looking at her. Of course, he would be smart enough and marry her . . .

No such luck actually. When Leila found out that he had taken the redheaded Rose Dewitt-Bukater as his bride, she was stunned and then angry. She wondered why he overlooked her. There was a reason. Everyone saw the reason but they never let Leila know. Yes, it could have been hard, since Leila and Rose, were both beautiful girls. But beauty was, all the girls had in common. Leila simply lacked the fiery spirit and intelligence Rose had. Unlike Rose, she was just a doll and a piece of temptation.

But Leila was ruthless. When she wanted something, she had to have it, and she never gave up until she got it. And she wanted Caledon Hockley. Even if he was now married to another woman, she still held onto him. She didn't want any other man besides Cal. And she would get him, no matter what. Rose seemed too young and childlike for a man like him. A man of twenty-five needed someone womanly like Leila. And besides, there were rumors that Rose didn't like Cal, which made her look ungrateful and stupid in the eyes of Leila. Cal probably gave her whatever she wanted, and treated her like royalty, and here she was, saying she didn't want to marry him! Of course, Leila didn't know a thing about how Cal abused Rose during their engagement. And even if she did know, she would have just dismissed them as silly rumors. Of course, Cal wouldn't treat Rose like that, she thought. He was too much of a gentleman to do that to any woman.

Due to an unexpected cold, she wasn't able to go to their wedding, which she regretted. She wanted to see him. And it wasn't because she wanted to flirt with him, but to comfort him too. She found out about the Titanic sinking, and about how Cal and Rose and her mother survived. The three survivors were obviously still in shock, since they didn't go out and socialize or throw lavish parties like they used to before. Everyone decided to give them a little time to themselves, to absorb the shock, and rest.

When Ms. Kingswood found out where Cal and his new bride were now living, she decided to pay a visit to her old friend, Ruth Dewitt-Bukater, who was, at the moment, living with the Hockley couple. She was said to be a little ill, but she was getting better, and could take some visitors. Well, when Leila found out her mother was going to the Hockleys she insisted on coming along. She was desperate to see that handsome, classic face of his again. And how he must be suffering, the poor thing! He went through so much! He was being quite strong, never whining about it to anyone. But he probably needed some comfort from someone. He probably needed to talk to someone about it.

And Leila was determined to be that person.


	4. New Beginnings and Temptations

Chapter 4

The first thing Rose saw the morning of June 10, was bright sunlight pouring into the window. It was the first in a long time Rose saw the sun. It shone brighter than ever, as if it was a symbol: a new day, a rebirth.

The door opened then and her eyes showed fear as Cal came into the room and walked toward her bed. He smiled down at her.

"Good morning, sweet pea," he said, using his old pet name for her. "It's good to see you awake." He turned to the window. "The rain is finally over. We can start all over again Rose." He turned to her, smiling. "Well?"

Rose only nodded nervously.

"I want you out of bed today. Ms. Kingswood and her daughter are coming over this afternoon, and I want you to be on your best behavior. I need you to get dressed, fix yourself up, and then come downstairs and act decent."

Rose was trying to say something to him, but her voice was so weak, it was hard to say the words clearly. Finally she said it in a way Cal could understand. "I...I don't feel very well."

"Well, that's probably because you're not eating," said Cal. He sounded genuinely concerned.

Cal turned to the window again. "Let's forget about the past. We're going to start all over again." He turned to her and touched her pale cheek. "What happened before, happened. But let's not spend the rest of our lives living in the past. Let's just . . . make a new beginning. "

He looked at Rose carefully, looking for something, anything. He then sighed when he found nothing. He left the room, giving her time to get dressed.

After Cal left, Rose got up from the bed. It was challenge though, since she felt weak and nauseous. She wasn't lying when she said she was sick. She felt much older, as if she would collapse any minute. But it was her own fault. Cal was right, she wasn't eating and that was the reason why she was so sick. She didn't do it on purpose though. She just wasn't feeling hungry. But now, she was so sick, she was willing to force herself to eat, just to feel a little better.

She put her new yellow dress. It was plain, but it did show off her curves, and it made her look young. She then sat in front of her mirror and tried to make herself look a little decent. But even though she spent an hour on her hair and her face, she still looked ill and weak. Her eyes were still swollen and red from crying and lack of sleep. Her face was pale and her hair was frizzy and looked as sad looking and tired as the rest of her face. It was hard to hide it. Thank God! Her mother never saw her like this. After the incident on the Titanic, her mother became a little ill, and she took to resting most of the day. Rose was glad her mother didn't know about her depression, and she couldn't wait when her mother moved into her own little house Cal had brought for her.

After pinning up her frazzled hair and finally settling on an almost decent face, she left her room and went downstairs. This was the first time she did that in a very long time.

Cal was sitting downstairs in the living room, when Rose came downstairs, all dressed in sunny yellow, and a forced smile on her pale face. She did look very sickly, but she looked pretty to Cal. He was immediately reminded of the young gorgeous girl she was before.

"You look very nice," he said, smiling a little.

He was about to say more, when Marta, the new maid, appeared next to him. "Ms. Kingswood is here, sir," she said.

"All right," he said, "Send her in."

Marta left the room and when she came back, Ms. Kingswood and her daughter, Leila, were following her into the living room.

"Mr. Hockley," said Ms. Kingswood. "It's good to see you again!" She held out her fingertips as she said, "Surely, you remember my daughter, Leila."

"Hello, Ms. Kingswood," said Cal, shaking her fingers. He turned to Leila. "Hello, Leila."

"Hello, Caledon Hockley," she said in her sweet voice. She looked over at his new bride, who was standing on the stairs and studied her critically. _She doesn't seem to be keeping up her appearances, _she thought, raising a black, finely arched eyebrow at Rose's pale face, and tired eyes. She shook her head to herself, wondering why Cal took this child as a wife.

"Ms. Hockley," said Ms. Kingswood, walking toward Rose. "How are you feeling? Are you taking everything well?"

Rose nodded. "Yes, everything's fine, just fine," she said, her voice cracked.

"Good."

Cal interrupted the two women. "Ruth is in the dining room if you would like to see her."

"Thank you," said Ms. Kingswood. "Come along, Leila."

"Nice to see you again, Mr. Hockley," said Leila, as she followed her mother and Marta into the dining room.

"I'm going with them," said Rose, quietly, almost to herself, as she walked down the stairs and into the next room.

"Try to eat something," said Cal, but he wasn't sure if Rose heard it or not.

The day wore on. A little later, Cal came and joined the women, and then left for a smoke, and when he came back, the women had divided into pairs, Ruth talking to Ms. Kingswood, Rose talking to Leila. He left the room so the women could be on their own. But shortly after he walked into the living room, he heard the open and then close. He thought it was Marta, but instead he found it was Leila, standing calm and erect.

"Hello," he said, smiling.

She smiled coolly, and then walked toward him.

"Would you like to sit down?" he waved his hand at the couch.

"Thank you," she said as she sat down in a very ladylike manner. "Are you taking everything well?" she asked.

"Yes, I am," he replied as he sat down next to her on the couch.

"I'm sorry for everything that happened," she said. "What happened on that ship must have been terrible. You're brave, going through so much trauma and –"

"I don't want to talk about it," said Cal abruptly, in a voice so cold, it gave Leila shivers down her spine.

"Well . . . " her voice trailed off, and she was speechless.

Cal became too absorbed in flashbacks from that night to pay attention to Leila. But when he finally did notice her reaction to his voice, he realized what he said. And how he said it. Something he never used to do. He straightened himself.

"Sorry," he said. "Sorry about how I said that. I'm just a little tired. I'm just . . . going through a little stress right now."

She smiled. "I understand. It must be hard for you. But . . . if you need someone to talk to, I'm always around. Remember that."

At that, she placed a silky hand on his. He looked up at her, and the first thing he saw were her eyes. He studied her face and finally concluded that he liked what he saw. Her face was womanly, and mature. After spending his time with a girl with youthful features, and bright eyes, he didn't mind looking at a woman with a sensuous body and radiant hair now. He never noticed Leila before, but he regretted missing her now. He was truly intoxicated from just looking at this woman.

He stopped looking at her immediately, when he heard the voices of women coming into the living room. He stood up.

"I'll see you again, I hope, Mr. Hockley," she said, sweetly. "Remember what I said." She walked out of the room, leaving Cal in the living room to think over her.

That was the meeting of Leila Kingswood and Caledon Hockley.


	5. Beyond His Control

Chapter 5

_July 4, 1912_

It was the Fourth of July. A day to celebrate. That was what everyone else was doing that clear night.

But not Cal. He just couldn't go outside, not today, and he was scared he wouldn't be able to leave his house without worry again.

Things had changed since June. For one thing, Ruth was no longer ill, and now lived in the house Cal bought for her. She was very comfortable, and no longer feared losing her lifestyle. She'll spend the rest of her life in bliss.

At least she was happy. You couldn't say the same thing for Cal and Rose. At first, things seemed to improve with Rose, but shortly after her mother left, she fell back into the old pattern. She stayed in her room, she stopped eating, she was severely ill. The only change was that her eyes no longer showed fear when Cal was around. They showed eyes of hate instead. And the look of hate in her eyes was uglier than the look of fear.

Cal wasn't any better. He began to neglect Rose, since he had his own problems to deal with. He never knew that getting over something would be this hard. He had flashbacks, painful ones, all day, every day. Everything reminded him of the Titanic and Jack, and those dead bodies, and the people struggling, screaming for help . . . it was becoming too much to bare.

He couldn't control them. And that was the worst thing about the Titanic and the flashbacks, and Rose's depression. For the first time in his life, he was met with something beyond his control. He knew this was going to drive him to insanity, but in the end, he decided to fight for as long as he could.

And now, it seemed as if his days of fighting were ending today. His mind wouldn't stop showing flashbacks, and he spent his entire day in a trance. How was he going to stop this before it was too late? Everything was out of control, and he found it impossible to stop it.

He heard Rose that night. She was in the bedroom of course, pacing the bedroom for a few seconds. He heard her cough and choke and gasp. When no more sounds were heard from her room, Cal got up from his chair in the hallway and knocked on the door. As usual, she didn't answer, so he invited himself inside.

Rose was sitting on her bed, looking out the window, with a look of emptiness on her face. Her eyes were as pale as her face.

Cal closed the door and came closer to Rose. "Did you eat it?" he asked referring to the bowl of soup in a tray on her night stand. He had Marta send it to her room.

He sighed when he looked into the bowl and found the food untouched. "Rose..." he began, mustering as much patience as possible, "You need to eat something. Now."

She looked up at him. "I feel too sick–"

"Well maybe if you ate something, you wouldn't have to worry about that, wouldn't you?" he said in a cold voice, hitting the tray.

"I'll try to eat it tonight, if that will make you feel better," she said, calmly.

"Good to know you'll do something else besides cry over that gutter rat you call Jack," said Cal, in a very sarcastic tone.

And then Rose did something she hadn't done in a long time. She talked back. "What makes you think I'm crying over him? Maybe it's _you_ I cry over."

Cal knew what that meant. He glared at her. "I more than understand you don't want to be here, with me."

"Good you understand," she said. She stood up, and looked at him in his brown eyes. "Remember on the Titanic? When I told you that I would rather be his whore than your wife? I never changed my mind over that. I'd rather be anyone's whore than your wife!"

"Well, why don't you leave and find another bum and go live with him!" said Cal. "I can do better without you!"

"I'm sure it'll be better for both of us!" she screamed. "Why the..._heck_ did you bother finding me after the sinking! You could have just left me alone, and I would be just fine without you!"

"No you wouldn't," said Cal calmly, reaching a very true conclusion. "Please, tell me how you're going to make it without me hm? Open your eyes dammit. You wouldn't make it with Jack, let alone by yourself. You don't know a thing about taking care of yourself in this world. You never worked a day in your life, you never did a useful thing in your life, so tell me how you'll make it? Sewing clothes for a couple of dollars?"

No answer from Rose. She knew he was right.

"Once Jack saw all that you could do, he would have got up and left you...if you two made it this far..."

"We would have," said Rose.

"Really!" Cal laughed. "Oh God, is Rose right, or is she just an idiot after all!"

"I_ am_ right. Maybe you're the idiot."

"Oh I'm the idiot? Really? Did I try to run off with some kid as silly as you, after I knew him for only two days, and said I loved him so very much?" He said this all in a mock voice.

"Well, I'm sorry if you think that way, Cal. I think differently."

"That's lovely. You naive fool! Jack never loved you! Do you hear me? Never! He was after your looks, and he was trying to get close to your money. He took advantage of you. And you? You made a mistake."

"Yes he did, and no I didn't make a mistake. He didn't care about my money."

"Really? Tell me something: did Jack ever tell you he loved you? Did he?"

She stepped away from him, stunned.

"I guess that means no, right?"

"Well...it doesn't matter anyway. It's not as if I'd get anything better from you. I don't know who's right in this...maybe Jack did love me, maybe he didn't. But at least I didn't have to worry about being slapped and treated like a caged animal with him, like I have to worry with you. That's why I would rather be with some street bum half dead with consumption than be slapped around by you."

For once, Cal didn't have anything to say for that. It was true. He did hit her before. He was a little sorry for doing it. But now, with Rose making him so angry, he was thinking about slapping her. He balled his right hand into a fist, and held it behind his back. He was determined to say all he wanted to say, without losing control of his temper. Since his temper was the only thing he could control nowadays.

She glared up at him, hurting him with the truth and then she walked past him, out of the room and into the hallway. Cal followed her.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"I just don't want to be in the same room as you. I'd rather be in the living room, where I can get some space."

"I'm not done with you yet," said Cal.

"I am. I'm losing my voice, and I don't want to make it worse. So excuse me."

"I have more to say," he said grabbing her arm. He grabbed it out of anger, and out of fear. He was feeling dizzy. The arguments, the reminders, they were sending him into a shower of disturbing flashbacks. He was losing control, and he was going to lose his temper if Rose didn't stop and listen to him.

But Rose didn't see the disturbed look in his eyes. She pulled her arm from her grasp. He tried again.

"Enough!" she screamed. She pushed his arm away from her.

And before either of them knew it, Cal's hand moved forward to her face and then slapped her hard, causing her body to slam into the wall. She nearly let herself fall to the floor.

When Cal did that, he snapped out of his trance. He wasn't even thinking when he did that. His mind was in another world. He didn't mean to do that. And he grew more guilty when he saw the pale thin girl holding her pale face as tears rolled down her face.

"Rose..." He walked towards her.

That was a bad choice. Rose was prepared for him. When he came close enough, she did something she never did before: she took her hand and slapped him back. He felt that sting immediately and he stepped back, shocked. He came to her again and this time she used her long nails to scratch his face.

Neither of them could describe what happened next. He tried to placate her, but he couldn't control her as she screamed hoarsely and kicked him and slapped him. Finally he gave up and stepped away from her as she stood up.

"Now you understand how it feels!" she said in a cold voice. She shook her head at him. "Why don't I just leave. How I hate you."

"Rose..." He was speechless.

"Why did I.." She didn't finish her sentence as she tipped a chair over. She sobbed. "I can't take this anymore. I spend all day, remembering everything. I don't want to remember it, I just want it to go away! I can't spend my life living in a flashback!"

"I understand..." And he did.

"And I'm scared. I'm scared of you. And I'm sure you enjoy my fear do you?"

"No, I don't," said Cal. "That's not true."

She wasn't listening to a word he said. She was on the floor, sobbing. She was shaking, sobbing, screaming, pulling at her hair. It was a sight Cal couldn't bare seeing. He was about to fall to floor and start screaming himself.

But instead of falling to the floor and falling into a breakdown, he did something else. Before he knew it, he was kneeling on the floor, wrapping his arms around Rose. She resisted, but she was so weak she didn't have enough strength. She just let him hold her, as she cried and cried.

Time passed as they sat in the middle of the hallway, Cal holding her, and Rose crying. He was truly scared and concerned for Rose for the second time. He patted her back, he kissed her hair, and finally, when she began to show signs of calming down, he scooped her up in her arms and carried her into the bedroom, and laid her down gently in the bed. He sat next to her until she fell asleep.

When she finally cried herself to sleep, he quietly left the bed and sat down on a chair. The room was completely dark, and he wanted to keep it that way. He wanted to think, now that his mind was clear.

He thought about Rose. Not about what happened, but Rose. Just her. He wasn't the only one dealing with letting go of the past. She was also losing control of herself. And he was scared for her. He was scared for her just like on that April night on the Titanic. And worse, he didn't know what to do. He couldn't control her mind, his mind, nature, anything. Everything was out of his control. And there were more things coming his way, that would be out of his control. They were coming soon too.

He didn't love Rose, never did. He liked her pretty face, but never loved. But, as he just found out, he did care about her. He wanted to help her. And for Caledon Hockley, that was a new feeling. For the first time in years, he was showing a little bit of humanity, and was thinking of someone other than himself. Now, he had a purpose in life: to save Rose and himself.

He stopped thinking when he heard Rose stir in the bed and then sit up a little. "Cal?" he voice was weak and small.

"I'm here," he whispered.

He heard her crying now. "Cal..."

"Yes..."

"I know you won't be happy with me. You'll hate me."

"I don't hate you Rose."

"You will hate me, when I tell you this. I wish I didn't have to, but now I do. I have to tell you."

"Just tell me."

"It hurts to think about it."

"I'm sure–"

What Rose said next was something Cal never expected. It was something else out of his control.

"Cal, I'm pregnant."


	6. A Painful Decision, A Secret

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Another short chapter, but okay. Read and enjoy.

Chapter 6

Cal sat on a chair in the middle of the hallway, his mind in a cloud. He closed his eyes, which were heavy from lack of sleep. When he felt himself falling asleep, he opened his eyes again and reached for the glass of water near his chair. The glass tipped over and water spilled on the floor. He sat back, sighing in frustration.

It had been a week since Rose told Cal about her pregnancy, and he was still in shock. He was praying for it to be untrue; Rose wasn't completely sure. But this morning, the doctor came over and confirmed it; Rose was four months pregnant.

All he could think of was _"I'm not the father."_ He couldn't possibly be the father. They never slept together. Ever. And Rose had an affair with Jack.

Rose was wrong; Cal didn't hate her at all. He pitied her. He hated Jack. Jack. The name itself was enough to make Cal pull at his hair. From Cal's point of view, Jack took advantage of an innocent girl. And to make it worse, that bum left her depressed and alone with his child. In a small way, it was Cal's fault. He should have stopped it. He wasn't fast enough. And now, Rose was hurt.

He didn't hate Rose. But he was mad at her. How could he trust her? If a woman couldn't stay faithful to her fiancé, what were the chances she would stay faithful to her husband? This had to be the worst thing a woman could do to her husband.

He thought about Rose last night, when she told him she was pregnant. He was so shocked, that he didn't say anything. Rose told him she was sorry. But he didn't listen. He just told her to sleep as he walked out of the bedroom. He spent the rest of the night in the hallway, where he fell asleep on the chair.

Now, here he was in the same chair in the hallway, thinking. What was he going to do with that child of hers? Cal just couldn't think of keeping that child. He couldn't, just couldn't, spend the rest of his life, knowing that he fathered a child that wasn't his. Especially one that came about from adultery. That was just asking too much.

There was a solution to the problem, or at least he thought it could be. There was abortion. He heard about people doing it, killing the unborn child. People in poorer areas did it, people who didn't have the time or money to feed another mouth. It did seem like a good idea at first.

Yes, it seemed like a good idea at first. But there were some problems with the idea. There was his reputation. What if someone found out he had aborted his child? They would ask questions, and questions had to be answered, and the most important thing was to keep the answer from coming out.

And then Rose. Not all abortions were successful. Not all people who performed abortions were professional doctors. Some women were known to bleed to death from abortions, if it was done the wrong way. And Cal wouldn't be able to live with letting Rose die like that. And besides, would Rose be willing to let go of the child? She never said anything about giving up the child. Of course she wanted the child.

Cal considered all of these things. He wasn't sure what to do exactly, so he sat there in the hallway for the rest of the afternoon, thinking of which way to go.

Rose spent her afternoon in the usual place, locked in the bedroom. But instead of mourning and crying, she was worrying. The future of her child was at stake. She wasn't sorry at all for sleeping with Jack. She was, however, sorry for getting pregnant alone and having Cal find out. And now, something might happen to her child. She didn't want to lose it, but she had a feeling Cal wouldn't let her keep it, knowing where it came from.

She knew Cal was angry about it. He rarely spoke to her now. He didn't ask questions. He didn't do anything. Or anything Rose didn't know of. He could have already sent for someone to take away her child.

The door opened. She sat up in her bed as Cal walked into the room. Instead of closing the door this time, he kept it opened.

He swallowed hard. "Rose, come downstairs and eat something. That child is probably starving. If you want that baby to be born healthy, you'll have to eat."

As Rose got up, she stopped and looked at Cal. What did he say?

"Cal . . . will I . . . will you . . . "

He sighed. "I thought about it. You'll have to keep the child. But if I let you, you have to eat, and be active, and try to be healthy for the sake of the child. Understand?"

Rose nodded. _Anything for my baby_, she thought.

"Good." He came closer to her. "And another thing: the child is _mine._ Don't let anyone think otherwise."

She nodded silently.

It was August and Rose was five months pregnant, and Cal finally told everyone about the expecting child. For that entire month, all of their friends, and family members came over to the Hockley house to congratulate the couple on the expecting baby.

The Kingswoods and Ruth came to the house on the same day. Mr. and Ms. Kingswood told them congratulations, and all that sort of thing. Their daughter, Leila, however, said nothing. She kept her distance from everyone, and Rose would sometimes catch Leila glaring at her, and then turn away. There was one point when Leila stalked away before anyone could notice.

Leila felt a little hurt about all this. It was bad enough Cal married that Rose, and now his child was growing inside of her. She wanted desperately to carry his child instead.

She was now walking down the hallway leading to the kitchen. She stopped when she heard something. It sounded like Cal's deep, charming voice. She listened to it more.

And then, she listened more, and heard something else: crying.

She came closer and closer to the room the sounds were coming from and then looked through the crack in the door. There in the room, she could see Cal standing up against the table. And Ruth, Rose's mother, was sitting in a chair crying silently. She listened to the conversation . . .

"Cal," said Ruth through her tears. "I think I know better. The Titanic, I know what happened. Tell me the truth–is it . . . "

"No, no it's not," replied Cal, quietly. "We never did."

Ruth shook her head as tears fell from her eyes. "I knew this would happen. We should have stopped it sooner."

"Listen," said Cal. "This isn't a good time to talk about it but I'll tell you this . . . we can't let anyone know the truth about that child. For our sake. And the child's."

"Of course we can't!" exclaimed Ruth. "We can't let them know. And make sure Rose understands that. "

"She knows . . . "

At that moment, Leila walked away slowly and quietly from the door, suddenly afraid she would get caught eavesdropping. But she was full of curiosity. Something was wrong. But what? What didn't they do? What happened on the Titanic? And what about the baby Rose was carrying? What was wrong with it that they didn't want anyone knowing about? All of those mysterious questions, were swirling in her head.

And Leila was determined to find out the answers.


	7. Sacrifices

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Once again, another short chapter.

Chapter 7

_Oh God, _thought Cal, as he rubbed his head. _Not now._

It was now the first week of September. Things were getting harder for Cal. His flashbacks were getting worse and there were times when they kept him up at all hours of the night, or caused him to wake up drenched in sweat. And now, in the middle of enjoying his dinner, a wave of flashbacks hit him without warning. They were so terrible, they were giving him a headache.

_I need to get out_, he thought to himself. _I need a distraction. Anything!_

Amid his flashbacks, he heard someone across the table from him. It was Rose. He needed her.

"Rose!" he exclaimed across the table, startling Rose. Cal never talked at the table, and Rose was the same way.

"Yes?" she said, tentatively.

"Let's sing a song!" he shouted.

"What!" Rose just stared at Cal for a minute. Was he crazy? she asked herself. She wasn't used to this kind of behavior from him.

Cal stopped and took a breath. "Why don't you sing a song for me, Rose? I want to hear you sing." Cal was suddenly reminded of Rose's beautiful singing voice. He wondered if she still had it.

"Okay," said Rose, hesitating.

"Sing that song," said Cal, thinking of the song. "Sing . . . _She Moved Through the Fair_. Please, let me hear you sing it."

Rose nodded calmly, even though inside she was shaking. She couldn't remember the last time she sung a song. Her voice was still a little weak. But if Cal asked for it . . .

She thought of the words to the song for a minute, and then began in a small, shaky, but sweet voice. "My young love said to me, "My mother won't mind . . . "

Cal watched her, listening to her rich, clear soothing voice. He never cared for her voice before, but now it helped him, and he listened to her voice. It was beautiful and pleasant. Slowly, his flashbacks melted away, and his mind was now beginning to relax.

Finally Rose finished the last words to the song, and then took a deep breath of relief. She looked across the table to see Cal looking at her with an enchanted look on his face. He was smiling.

"That was beautiful," he said. "Perfect." He went back to eating.

"May I be excused?" asked Rose. "I feel very tired suddenly."

He nodded. "Good night, sweet pea."

When Rose stood up from the kitchen table, he frowned at the look of her. She was now entering her sixth month of pregnancy and her middle was now plump, showing the body of one with a baby growing inside of her.

Rose was something else he was trying to get over. In three months, he was going to be the father of a child that he wasn't responsible for bringing into the world. And worst of all, he found himself not wanting the child at all. He wasn't willing to be a father to the child, knowing how it came about.

But he only sighed when the thought came to him. He had to live with it, even if he wasn't willing to do so. He made a sacrifice for Rose. And he made a life sentence for himself, and it was too late to get out of it.

XXXXXX

So far, Rose was improving. She still experienced her bouts with depression, and she was still very sick and weak. But she was much better. She was eating regularly again, even if she did have to force herself sometimes. She was sleeping again, but that was only because she was very tired most of the time, due to the pregnancy. She took care of herself a little more, and she was beginning to look a little better.

She was supposed to be happy here. But she was only scared and screaming inside, and she had mixed feelings about her baby. In the beginning, she was scared of Cal. He caught her and she was trapped in a marriage she didn't want to be in anyway. She knew she couldn't spend her life with this controlling, abusive man. He wouldn't understand her. He never did; she kept her flashbacks to herself.

She kept the pregnancy to herself at first. The baby: it ruined her plans. She was planning on leaving, running away one night, and never coming back. She knew it would be hard on her own, but she was determined to make it. Cal was right that July night–she never did a single useful thing in her life, and she would end up living a very hard life. And Jack would probably find that out too. But she was ready to learn in the real world, she was determined to make it some day. But then the baby came about. She wouldn't be able to take care of it on her own, if she ran away. So, she decided to stay once Cal told her she could keep her baby. She wanted to make sure the baby had a good life in a comfortable home, never having to worry about food, clothes, or a doctor when it was sick. The only bad thing about living here, was that the baby would grow up knowing nothing about where it really came from.

But Rose only sighed at the thought of that. She loved Jack. She knew he loved her, even if he never told her. He showed her in a hundred ways. The child that was growing inside of her womb was the only thing she had left of him. She had to keep it, and take good care of it. And sometimes you had to make sacrifices for the one you loved and cared for. And sometimes, you had to protect them too, even if it meant keeping them ignorant from the truth.


	8. Cal and Leila

Chapter 8

_September 13, 1912 _

Rose's birthday. She was now eighteen.

Of course, people came over to see her, to tell her best wishes. They came to tell her happy birthday, _and_ to tell her good luck on her upcoming baby.

The Kingswoods were the last people to see Rose for that day. Once again it was the usual good sweet talk coming from everyone: except Leila. Leila once again kept her distance, and spent a good deal of time eyeing Rose's growing belly. This was nothing new to Rose though; she knew Leila for about five years. She never felt comfortable with her. Leila was quite an intimidating girl to everyone.

But Rose refused to be bothered by Leila that night; she was too tired, to really think about Leila's behavior. She just spent her evening with Ms. Kingwood, listening to the advice the older woman gave her about child rearing.

Leila stayed on the edge of things until she was able to disappear without anyone knowing she even left. She was good at sneaking away. She knew it was rude and rather childish to do so, but she wasn't interested in seeing, or hearing about Rose's baby. She hated the fact that she wanted Cal Hockley as a husband, but he was completely out of her reach. How could she get the attention of a man who was already married and starting a family? And if she did get his attention, how could they be together with starting scandal? She was a woman who was serious about her reputation; she loved him desperately, but she didn't know if she was brave enough to take up an affair with Cal Hockley.

She walked around the house, looking at the details of the large elegant house, taking every beautiful feature in. She didn't even notice Cal when he met her in the hallway.

"Miss Kingswood!" he said, surprised.

She stopped walking and her eyes widened. "Mr. Hockley! I was just . . . looking around your _lovely_ house. I hope I didn't upset you . . . "

"Not at all," he said calmly. "I was just surprised to see you. I didn't expect to see you around here."

"I'm sorry. I was . . . feeling lightheaded and I needed a walk. Your wife said it was fine to do so."

"Then, there's nothing wrong with what you're doing then."

"Good. Can I sit here?" Leila pointed to the hallway chair.

"If you feel you need to," he said in his calm suave voice.

"Thank you. I didn't see you so much tonight."

"Did Rose tell you I wasn't feeling well today?"

"No, she didn't. But are you going to be okay?"

"Yes, I'll be fine," he said in almost a whisper.

Leila looked at him closely. "I see you're still having some trouble," she concluded. "You're still going through a lot?"

He nodded. "Yes, it is a little hard. Leila, why don't we go with everyone else, hm? It isn't proper for us to be alone like this."

Leila pretended not to hear him. She wanted him alone. And this was her only chance. "Remember what I told you? You could tell me anything. Now, what's bothering you? You shouldn't have to keep things inside of you. It's not healthy."

He smiled. "You sound like my Aunt Theresa. She was always telling everyone that."

Leila smiled and stood up from her chair. "Tell me."

Giving up, because he was too weak and tired to protest, Cal sighed over the bold woman. She was as bold and as demanding as Rose.

"You're going through a lot," said Leila. "And I can understand. First the Titanic, and then you have to prepare for a baby. It's all going too fast. Your wife must also be going through a lot too, I assume . . . is she taking all of this well?"

"Yes, she's just fine," he replied.

"And you? Is it hard for you?"

He nodded. He felt himself falling into a series of flashbacks again. He had to stop them.

"I would understand–"

Cal shook his head. "No . . . I mean, no more. I'd rather not talk about this."

"Are you sure you don't–"

"You heard what I said." His voice was icy.

"I'm sorry, I was only trying to help," said Leila stepping back.

Cal noticed the hurt in her voice. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm trying to get over everything. I don't need someone trying to remind me of it."

"I was only–"

"I understand you were trying to help, but if I need to talk to you, I'll tell you when I want to."

"I see. I'll wait for you, if that's what you want."

"Thank you," he said, as he faintly felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked over at the woman and stared down at her. She was beautiful, and her hair was probably her best feature. Her black eyes were intoxicating. Her body was rich, and it seemed warm. She seemed tempting and just wonderful. He wished he could tell her everything. He never talked to Rose about anything he was going through, mostly because she was half the problem. This woman seemed like someone he could trust. And she really wanted to help him. He could tell she honestly wanted to. He was falling for this woman, even if he didn't want to, let alone be able to. He was married to Rose. He may not love Rose, but he did care a lot about her. He was supposed to be faithful to his wife.

But the next minute, the idea of faithfulness slowly melted away. He bent over Leila and kissed her full on her lips. He didn't mean to kiss her. It was as if some force within him, beyond his control, pulled him toward her. And since Leila didn't seem the least bit upset about his impulsive way, he continued, and didn't care to stop. He was enjoying it, and it was never like this with Rose.

Eventually he stopped the kiss and then looked down at the woman. Her entire face was smiling, and she seemed to be glowing. He softly touched her cheek, and placed a hand in her hair. He gave her a quick kiss on the lips.

"I need to go . . . Leila," he said, quietly, smiling.

"Yes, you do," said Leila, lightly as Cal walked away. "Good night, Caledon."

"Good night, Leila," he said walking away, watching her.

XXXXXX

Leila couldn't sleep that night. She felt as if she was in heaven or buried in some dream. Did she really kiss Caledon Hockley? Yes it was true. She kissed him, right on the lips. And it was the best feeling ever! She couldn't believe it. The way he looked at her that night–she'll never forget it. She was convinced–he was falling for her. It wouldn't be long before he fell in love with her . . . if he wasn't already.

And in the end, Leila Kingswood found herself not worrying.

XXXXXXX

Cal also couldn't sleep last night. He was feeling a little guilty for kissing Leila . . . but only at first. He thought about Rose, and about how she was unfaithful to him. Should he feel ashamed for kissing a woman, while his wife was carrying a child that belonged to another man?

Before he went to sleep that night, he was guilt-free.


	9. Giving Thanks

Chapter 9.

_October 12, 1912_

Rose was sitting in front of her dressing table that morning, lost in thoughts. Her hands were on her growing stomach, thinking of the little person growing inside of her. In just two more months, she would be the mother to a small little creature, something that was created from pure love. She didn't plan for it to happen; she didn't know it would happen. But she was still glad it was here. She wanted this child, regardless of where it came from.

Last month, her mother asked her to explain why she wanted the child. To Ruth, the child came from sin. Rose was supposed to be ashamed for carrying a child like that.

Rose thought about what her mother said. How could she hate the child? True, the child wasn't created in the most proper way. True, the child did destroy her plans. But could she hate it for those reasons? Of course not, what mother could ever do that, without feeling terrible? The child that was inside Rose's womb was completely innocent. The baby didn't do anything. It didn't ask to be created. Jack and Rose made a choice to consummate their love. They could have decided not to touch each other. But they didn't. And in that process, they created another human being. It was an innocent human being that knew nothing about the problems it would go through. And this little person did absolutely nothing, except grow when nature told it to do so.

So, Rose concluded that she couldn't hate the child, no matter where it came from or how it came about, or what problems it would cause. She could only blame herself for bringing forth those problems. The baby did nothing. It was Jack and Rose that did it. She didn't regret what she did with Jack, and promised herself she'll never regret it. But she did wish things ended differently.

She wondered for the hundredth time about what could have been her life if Jack had survived. Would they be married? Where would they live? How would Jack react to Rose's baby? Would he be happy? And most of all, would they still love each other?

She asked those questions almost every day. She wanted Jack alive again, just to answer those questions.

And then, there was Cal. She knew her future. She was going to spend the rest of her life with Cal. She didn't want to, but she felt she had to, for her baby's sake. If she ran away, the baby might face a life of starvation, malnutrition, illness. She just couldn't do that. She couldn't watch her baby live a harsh life, just because she wanted to run away.

There was more about Cal too. She noticed something in him. He was different. He seemed . . . broken. She didn't know what to expect from him anymore. She was surprised when he comforted her, when she had the breakdown, and even more surprised when he said she could keep the baby. The old Caledon Hockley would have never done that. Maybe there was more to him than Rose thought.

Her thoughts were interrupted when her bedroom door opened and Marta came into the room.

"Ms. Christine Ashley is downstairs to see you," said Marta in her stiff voice.

"Thank you," said Rose, as she looked at herself in the mirror for one last time. She was looking much better now, with her red hair taken care of, her eyes showing character again, her skin less pale. Satisfied with her looks, she stood up awkwardly, and, with Marta's help, walked downstairs to meet an old friend.

XXXXXX

Christine and Rose used to be close friends. They attended the same finishing school together, and they shared a lot in common. They always had an understanding for each other.

Christine was a year older than Rose. She was nineteen, and was married for a year to Spencer Ashley, a man who worked with Cal. She just gave birth to her first child, a son named Julius. And she was desperate to show her old friend her new baby. She wanted to see Rose, since so many changes had happened between the two girls.

As Rose walked downstairs, seeing Christine sitting on the couch, she smiled to herself. It was as if time did nothing to her old friend. Christine was still the same girl she was before. She wasn't especially beautiful but the way she carried herself, and her personality made her look much prettier than she really was. She had crystal blue eyes. Her eyes seemed to hold a great deal of wisdom. Her hair was straight, thin and almost gold, and when you took it out of the pins, her hair would fall down to her legs like a great waterfall. The only thing that changed was that now, Christine held a baby in her arms.

When she saw Rose coming down the stairs, she smiled.

"Is that the baby?" asked Rose, coming into the living room.

Christine nodded. "Yes. And I see _that's_ your baby too," she said, pointing at Rose's stomach.

Rose blushed, as she placed a hand on her belly.

"I heard that you were in "delicate condition" Rose," Christine laughed gently. "When will the baby come?"

"It won't be long, before it's time," said Rose as she sat down on the couch, kissing Christine on the cheek. "How old is he?"

"Four months."

"Can I hold him?"

Christine nodded as she handed the baby over to Rose, showing her how to hold the infant.

"He's lovely," Rose said almost to herself. As she looked at the jet black hair, and dark blue eyes on the little cherubic face, she idly wondered how her baby would look like.

"I'm sure you can't wait for your own little one," said Christine. "I know how you feel. I stayed sick for almost the entire time. I was close to going simply mad. Are you nervous, Rose?"

"A little."

"Good. There's nothing wrong with being a little nervous. Everyone goes through this. Oh! How you've changed."

"How?" asked Rose, humored. She loved how Christine changed the subject so quickly. She was always interesting to talk to.

"Remember the last time we talked? Before you went to Europe with Cal and your Mother? You didn't want to marry Cal at all. You were completely nervous. And now . . . here you are married to him, and seven months into the marriage, you're full of baby!"

"Oh . . . yeah," said Rose, nervously.

"What's wrong?" Christine softened, when she noticed the color in Rose's face go away.

"N-nothing," said Rose, trying to calm herself down. "I was just distracted."

Christine smiled. "I heard about everything," she began.

Rose's eyes widened. "How much do you know!" her mind wandered somewhere else.

"About the whole disaster. Everyone knows about it by now. It was all over the newspapers."

"The Titanic? The Titanic!" Rose sighed loudly.

"Of course the Titanic," said Christine. "What else would I be talking about? "

"Did you hear what happened on the Titanic?" asked Rose, still worried, without a logical reason. Surely, no one would know about it.

"Of course. It sank! What else could have happened to it?"

"Nothing," said Rose, looking away. "I'm just . . . I don't like talking about it."

Christine's eyes showed sympathy. "I know it was a terrible . . . "

"The worst experience in my life," said Rose. She began to shudder. What began as flashbacks, ended as a moment of mourning for Jack.

Christine grabbed Rose's hand. She didn't know what to say for her troubled friend. She watched as a tear fell from Rose's eye. Rose wiped it away before it fell down her cheek.

"I'm sure . . . "Christine tried to find her words. "I'm sure things will get better soon. You can't live in that moment forever."

_Yeah right_, Rose thought sarcastically. _I'm sure someday I'll forget everything. Even this child's father._

"And I'm sure Cal's going through a hard time himself," continued Christine. "He's helping you along the way with everything, I hope?"

_Helping? _thought Rose. _He should be called a saint! He married me, even though I slept with another man during our engagement, he made sure I was well-taken care of in his home, he helped me when I had a breakdown in the middle of the hallway, even after I scratched his face, and not only did he allow me to keep the baby that doesn't belong to him, but he said nothing about it. How many people would do that?_

"Yes, " Rose nodded finally. "Cal is helping me a lot during this time. I...I honestly don't know what I would have done without him." And Rose was being genuinely honest.

Christine smiled. "Good. Everything will get better again. I promise."

_And I hope. Or wish._

Christine looked at Rose and noticed something. Christine always believed she had a sixth sense. She had a way of looking deep into a person, reading a person. And at that moment, she was sensing something in Rose. Something was troubling her. She felt that same feeling with Rose, at the time of Rose's engagement to Cal, and after Rose's father had died. She was feeling something again. She was hiding something. She was keeping a secret. And that was painful for Christine. Rose used to be her best friend. So why would she keep a secret from her?

But Christine only ignored the feeling as Rose began to talk again, putting on a fake smile, and talking happily about everything. There would be plenty of time to figure out what was hiding behind Rose's smile.

XXXXXXXXX

It was late that night, and Cal and Rose were already in bed. Cal was pretending to sleep. He spent his time thinking of Leila idly, trying to remember her face. He hadn't seen her since that September night, when they shared their first kiss together. He wondered when he could see her again.

Rose was still up reading a book. What book it was, Cal didn't know, nor care. Frankly, he hated how Rose would spend almost an hour in bed, reading. It was distracting and it seemed rather improper.

Rose wasn't concentrating on the book though. She was thinking of the proper time to say what she had been holding back all day, since Christine left. Finally she placed the book down slowly, and then . . . "Cal?"

Cal turned over to his wife. "Hm?"

Rose leaned over and kissed him on the forehead quickly. "Thank you," she said quickly and quietly. "Thank you for everything."

Cal didn't say anything right away. Finally he spoke. "Don't worry about it. Just remember what I said."

And at that, Rose slowly turned off her light and the couple fell asleep.


	10. The Disappointment

Chapter 10

_December 9, 1912._

It was like everything starting all over again.

Once again Cal was in the living room, looking through the large window, instead of concentrating on whatever book was in his hand. His mind was flooding with anxiety again for Rose.

Some things had changed though. Instead of rain falling at night, there was snow in the afternoon. It was snowing early for that year, and it didn't cheer anyone in the house up, since the snow was making it hard for certain people to get to the Hockley house.

Another thing that changed was Rose. Cal was no longer worrying about Rose's depression. He was now worrying about Rose's baby. At that moment, Rose was upstairs in a spare room, with a doctor, a midwife and the maid, ready to give birth.

It was hard on Cal. He knew absolutely nothing about babies and childbirth. And Rose, being a young girl who was given very vague information on sex education from her mother just before her engagement to Cal, knew very little about it. She was completely confused the entire time, starting from the labor which began the night before. It was all up to Marta to handle everything. She was the one that called Doctor Luke and Patricia Highwaters, an old midwife, to the house to help Rose. And after, Rose was rushed to another part of the room. And Cal, who felt completely helpless, decided to go downstairs, staying away from everything.

And this was it. This was the day everyone was waiting for. This was the day that Rose's son–everyone prayed for a son–was going to be born. And everyone was looking forward to the moment.

Cal was probably the only one who wasn't happy or excited about this. To Cal, the beginning of the baby's life in the world was going to be the beginning of his life sentence. He was trapped. For the first time in his life he was trapped and he couldn't control it. He was going to spend the rest of his life fathering a child that didn't belong to him in any way. He felt like a fool for allowing this to happen. For a minute he regretted ever telling Rose she could keep the baby. He wished he could have aborted it. But then, he remembered that night when Rose told him "thank you". And he remembered his purpose in life. He was here to help Rose. This was helping Rose. But he also had to help himself. How was this going to help him? Living a lie every day for the rest of your life didn't seem like helping yourself at all.

_At least it's stopping my flashbacks_, he thought to himself as he listened to Rose. It was hard to fall into flashbacks when Rose's screams and cries of pain could be heard in almost every part of the house. He didn't know how Rose could take that pain. He wasn't going through it, but it was unbearable to listen to. He heard stories of women going through childbirth. Of course it was painful. But Cal had no idea it could be this terrible. He couldn't concentrate on his book. Every time he tried to read, he would almost tear the pages from the book, while listening to Rose cry in agony.

He was scared for Rose too. What if she died during childbirth? Women dying from childbirth was still common. It still happened in some parts. What if there was a problem with the baby? He didn't care what happened; as long as Rose survived and lived through the whole thing, he was fine.

At that moment, Cal turned just in time to see Miss Patricia Highwaters, come into the living room.

"Is it over?" he asked.

"Not yet," she said in a tired voice. "But it won't be long before it's all over. Your son will be here in before dinner time."

Cal thought about she said. _His son_. He grinned to himself at the irony of it all. Oh, little did she know.

"Make sure she comes out of it okay, "he said, as he turned his back on the woman.

XXXXXXXXXX

Two hours had passed. At that point, Cal did the strangest thing. Once again, something inside of him compelled him to do it. He went straight upstairs and went inside the spare room where Rose was having her baby. He figured he wanted to see what was taking so long.

The room was dark. There was Marta watching in a corner. There were the doctor and Miss Highwaters at the bed. And in the middle of the two, there was Rose herself in the bed. Her large middle took over half her body. Her face and red hair was drenched in sweat. Her blue-green eyes were flashing in pain, anger, and agony. Cal hardly recognized her. He never saw her looking like that before.

Her mouth opened as the pain took over her body. At that very moment, her bright eyes turned to Cal who was standing around the doorway.

"What are you doing here? Get out!" she screamed as Doctor Luke grabbed her shoulders, restraining her.

Cal didn't hesitate for a second. He closed the door quickly and stepped away from the spare room. Miss Highwaters came out of the room soon after.

"Don't worry about her," she explained. "She's in so much pain, she probably didn't hear herself saying that. She's been quite unpredictable for the past few hours." She closed the door behind her the second she finished saying that.

Cal didn't know what to do. He couldn't help. So he just sat down on his hallway chair and listened to everything, waiting for it to finally end.

XXXXXXXXXX

The day ended in disappointment for Caledon Hockley.

It was only a few minutes of waiting. His eyes opened as he heard the faint sound of a baby crying. Miss Highwaters came to him a second later.

"It's over," he sighed with relief.

"It's a girl!" said Miss Highwaters in a sing song voice.

When she said that, a part of him fell. That was the first disappointment. He was hoping for a son, an heir. _Something_ about the child had to go right.

Cal didn't see the newborn until later that evening. He was told to be quiet, since Rose was sleeping. The baby was just about to fall asleep in her bassinet beside Rose's bed when he went inside. He was able to see her eyes. Her eyes were _beautiful_, the most beautiful eyes on a little baby. She got her eyes from her mother, and they were a deep green and a sky blue mixed together. Cal stared at the baby's eyes for a long time, and she herself stared up at the big man with a wide, innocent stare.

Cal finally looked at the other parts of the baby. Of course, the child looked absolutely nothing like Cal. She looked like her father, Jack Dawson. Who else gave this baby her entire face? Her face resembled her father. And worst, her hair. Her head was covered with soft blond hair. Blond hair that came from her father. How was he going to explain this to everyone? How was he going to explain, why his so-called daughter was born with blond hair, when her mother had red hair and her father had brown?

At that point he became disgusted with the baby. He couldn't bare looking at her anymore. He just couldn't. And the worst thing of all was that he was going to have to look at this child every day for the rest of his life.

He turned away from the baby and looked at Rose instead. She was sleeping peacefully, her red hair hanging down to her stomach like wet snakes. Her skin was pale, but was starting to gain some color again.

In a minute, he realized he couldn't look at Rose either. This was the part when he hated her. He remembered everything that happened on the Titanic, between her and Jack, and his mind boiled with anger. The baby didn't do this. She did this. She made a choice, and ruined everything. She was putting everyone through everything, because of her selfishness.

"Why did you do this to me, Rose?" He found himself starting to cry. "God, why are you doing this to me?"

And then he remembered everything else. And he looked at Rose and remembered her pain, and finally he ended up hating himself. He knew why God was doing this to him.


	11. Beauty & Innocence

Chapter 11

_December 11, 1912_

When Rose woke up that afternoon, the first thing she noticed was her flat stomach. The baby! What happened? How . . .

And then she heard the baby whining on the side of her bed, and remembered everything. The memory of the pain she went through was vivid. _Well_, she thought, _I'll never go through that again. _

She turned over slowly and looked into the bassinet. There, her little girl laid on her back in the little crib, whimpering for her mother. In a matter of minutes, the whimpering turned into a high-pitched wail.

"It's okay, precious," Rose said quietly reaching into the crib for her daughter. "Mother's here, she's here."

Very carefully, Rose picked her newborn daughter, and then held it in her arms. She held her tightly, worried about hurting her baby.

"There," Rose cooed. "I'm here. I won't leave you. Ever."

Now, Rose was looking at her new daughter with a critical eye. The first thing she noticed was her eyes. They were hard to miss. Her eyes were blue-green, and they were bright and wide, and looked more like jewels instead of eyes.

The next thing she noticed was the hair. Her father gave her that hair. It was blond, straight, soft, and seemed to glow.

In the end, Rose concluded that looking at her little girl was like looking at an angel. An innocent dream. Rose went through a lot of pain for this baby, but it was worth it.

_God, thank you for this_, she said to herself. _And Jack, thank you for this._ _If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be holding this in my arms. It's too precious, and I'm thankful for it. _

She sat back in her bed, still holding her daughter. And then, she thought of something else. She had to thank someone else.

_Thank you Cal. Thank you for letting me have this._ _Thank God, for you and Jack. _

XXXXXXXXX

It took Rose a week to finally name her daughter. In the end, she gave the baby the only name that suited her. Rose gave her the name Colleen Marie Hockley.

Rose spent that entire week getting her strength back and adoring her new, little daughter. Taking her eyes off Colleen was such a hard thing. Rose couldn't get over how someone so small, so innocent, so young, could be so . . . beautiful. Those eyes were not the eyes of a baby. They were not even the eyes of a human. It was as if Colleen wasn't even human. Maybe Rose gave birth to something else . . .

Of course, everyone came to see the new member of the Hockley family. It was the usual people. The Kingswoods. Her Mother. Cal's own parents. And Christine Ashley. They all had questions though.

"A beautiful girl indeed," said Ms. Kingswood. "But where did she get her blond hair from?" That question was for Rose during an afternoon of tea.

Nathaniel Hockley, who was present at the time, was able to give an explanation. "That hair comes from her grandmother and her family," he said casually, as he gave a look at his blond wife. It was true, Cal's mother, and all of her siblings and parents had blond hair. Why didn't he think of that before?

"Yes," said Ruth in a cold voice, from across the table. "I'm sure that's the reason."

Rose looked at her mother, who was showing a look of contempt on her face. Ruth turned away, as if disgusted by just looking at Rose. Ruth was still disappointed in her daughter, and she never tried to hide it from Rose. She would never accept her granddaughter. Colleen was a disgrace, a complete mistake. And it was Rose's fault. She'll never forgive Rose for what she did.

Leila, who came along to see the new arrival, noticed the looks between Rose and her mother. She looked on, like a curious child, wondering like a child. Something was going on between them. Ms. Dewitt-Bukater was angry. Was it about Rose, or the baby? What was wrong with the baby? It seemed healthy and fine and pretty. She never forgot the discussion between Ruth and Cal in the dining room. She already knew something was wrong. But what? She just couldn't understand what was going on–yet she felt it was the most obvious answer. A question is missing, she concluded. If she could just ask herself that question, whatever question that may be, then she would have the answer. And then she could just put everything together. But how can you find a question? Where do you start? She had to understand what was going on, even if it took her years or even decades. She was very determined, and at this moment, she was determined to figure out what was going on.

Leila didn't dwell on it for a long time though. She remembered Cal and how wonderful he was to her in that hallway, and she felt she had to have him again. But she was trapped. How could she love a man, who has a wife and a newborn daughter? It was going to be hard to let go of this man, even if he wanted her.

After the afternoon tea ended, everyone went their separate ways around the house, socializing with whoever was closest to them. It was the perfect chance for Leila to slip away and be alone with Cal. As she walked away, she nearly crashed into Colleen's crib. She looked inside and stared at the baby, and the baby stared back, her big green-blue eyes giving Leila a shiver down her spine. There was something about those eyes that made her . . . different from her parents. In fact, Colleen looked very different from her father and mother. Even her blond hair didn't resemble the hair of Cal's mother. She hardly cared though, since she figured she was probably looking at the baby too hard. Maybe she was being a little too critical. She concluded the baby was pretty and then moved on.

She was planning on finding Cal again. But instead, she found herself eavesdropping again. And this time it was between Rose and her mother, Ruth. She wanted to find Cal, but when she heard the angry voice of Ruth behind a closed door, she knew it was something important. She listened carefully but was only able to get bits and pieces of the conversation.

"Rose . . . "she heard Ruth say.

"Mother, please." That was Rose now. "Now . . . we have guests . . . about this later."

It was obvious Rose couldn't placate her mother. Ruth didn't seem to hear her daughter, and she continued. "You're not ashamed of yourself, Rose?"

"For what?"

"For what!"

"I know what I did . . . but I can't take it back . . . "

"I wish I never asked Cal about the child. I wish it wasn't true."

"I wish things ended differently too, Mother."

"Yes, I also wish that child wasn't that way."

"She has a name Mother. Please, don't make Colleen look like . . . "

"She's not decent?"

"She is! It wasn't her fault! She's innocent. You never even looked at her."

"I did, actually." Ruth said this in almost a whisper.

"And did you see how she looked at you? We know about Colleen. But you have to remember . . . she's still a baby. She didn't do anything. Blame me instead!"

"I already blame you. I...I honestly don't know how you can live with yourself every day. Don't tell me you don't regret him, and you don't regret her, so tell a lie. You've truly disgraced me, Rose. I can't see you again, knowing how you did this to your own mother. Your mother who . . . sacrificed so much for you. I never imagined you would do this–ever."

"Mother . . . "

Leila walked away from the door again, just as Ruth walked out of the room and walked down the hall.

And for the rest of the day, Leila was in a cloud. She had more questions: Why was Ruth ashamed of Rose? What did she have against her granddaughter? What exactly did Rose do to her mother?

They were good, helpful questions but didn't help to solve the mystery.


	12. Colleen

**_Long time since I've updated on this story. It's a wee bit short, but enjoy anyway._**

Chapter12

_January 1, 1913_

_What will year 1913 bring?_

It was the first time in a long time Rose wrote in a diary. She once had diaries from when she was only eight years old. But sadly, all of her precious diaries were lost somewhere in the North Atlantic. It was a sad lost, since they were her most treasured possessions. But in the end, she decided to let them go. So many precious things were lost on the _Titanic_.

She decided to start a new diary on the first day of 1913, and begin everything all over again. She tried to keep it up, and write as much as she could, but with all the emotional problems she was dealing with, and with taking care of Colleen, she found she didn't have as much time as she wanted to write in her diary. So, in time, she stopped writing altogether, and by the time the year was over, she only wrote ten entries.

XXXXXX

Like most women of her class, she had a nanny to care for her daughter. The nanny, Hannah Mitchell, was an old, experienced nanny, who cared for Colleen in a very quiet, subdued manner.

Rose allowed Hannah to take care of Colleen for the first few weeks. But then, Rose began to feel a sense of guilt. She was the mother, not Hannah. It wasn't right to have the nanny do all the work, especially when Rose didn't have any other work to do. So from that point on, Rose started taking care of Colleen. Well, sort of. She never took care of a child before. She knew as much as nature taught a mother, but more than half the time, she was clueless. But she did get help, and she always listened to the advice Hannah gave her, and watched everything she did.

Now, Rose's life was busy. For the first time in her life, she was busy and literally tied down. It's funny, Rose always thought she was tied down by her mother, and Cal and her world. But now, she finally learned the true meaning of that, as she spent her entire day caring for Colleen, attending to her daughter's every need, revolving her life around her. Not that it was a bad thing; she loved her daughter, and she didn't mind. She just wasn't used to this at all.

Rose had never loved anyone in her life more than she loved Colleen, including her parents, Cal, Jack, and even herself. She didn't care where her little girl came from. It wasn't important. Her daughter was still beautiful, and perfect, flawless. She was the epitome of innocence, something Rose never knew existed.

Most of all, Colleen kept her distracted. Rose was still trying to sort out her emotions. She was still depressed, and although her flashbacks didn't get any worse, they were still harsh and frequent. If Rose had the time and the freedom of choice, she would have stayed locked in her room, letting everything tear at her. You couldn't do that with a baby. Rose was able to gather enough strength to push those emotions aside for the day so she could attend to her daughter. There were times when she felt like giving in, but when she thought of Colleen, she was able to move on. Looking at Colleen was enough to put a smile on Rose's face, and remind her to stay strong. Colleen was her inspiration.

At least someone loved Colleen. Rose's mother, Ruth, was another story. She didn't hate the child. But she was embarrassed and ashamed of where she came from. This wasn't how she wanted a grandchild to be. She was scared of it, worried that someone would find out the horrible truth. She knew that would be impossible; no one on the Titanic knew about the affair, except for Cal, Rose, Jack, and of course, her. And all evidence was under the North Atlantic. But she also knew that the truth always came out, regardless of how well you hide it. She was overwhelmed with worry over her precious reputation, and seeing the baby only made things worse. She only saw Colleen once, throughout her entire life. To her, seeing her disgraceful child once was enough.

And then, there was Cal. He wished he could help Rose. He knew Rose was going through as much emotional problems as he was, and she was just keeping it all inside of her. But he couldn't warm up to Rose, especially after Colleen came into the picture. He wanted to talk to her, about what he was feeling, but he felt that Rose was too far away. Communication between the two was nearly impossible.

Colleen only made matters worse. She came between him and Rose, when things were already bad. Cal, he hated to admit it, but . . . he hated Colleen he honestly did. He was ashamed for hating an innocent child but he couldn't help himself. He hated the child from the beginning, when he saw that blond hair, that nose, that chin, the shape of her eyes. She looked like her father, and her father was to be hated, since he was the root of all the problems.

Cal hoped that his attitude toward Colleen would change as time passed. It did change, but only for the worse. Colleen would spend her day crying over everything, and then spend her nights screaming. It was enough to drive a person mad. There were those nights when Cal wished he could just strangle that child, do anything to shut it up. Rose, knowing how it kept Cal up at all hours of the night, moved to another bedroom with Colleen, but it still kept Cal awake. He hated the child, but at the same time pitied it too. Pity probably saved the child from Cal.

But there was Leila. Of course, who else? Leila was so good. She wasn't part of the household. She had nothing to do with the Titanic. And that was the best part about her. She wasn't part of the problem. She didn't give him any reminders. She was good for taking his mind off of everything, while everything else around himfell apart.


	13. April 15, 1913

**Author's Note: I made some changes with the story, and deleted one part. Sorry it took a while to update. For now, this chapter is going to be a little short but it's a good make-up.**

Chapter 13

_April 15, 1913. _

"I think I'm finally starting to understand Cal more."

"What do you mean?" asked Christine taking a bite out of a biscuit. It was a beautiful April afternoon, and Christine was spending the day with her long-time friend, Rose. They were having tea together silently outside in the Hockley lawn. Suddenly, Rose broke the silence.

"I mean, I feel I'll finally be able to relate to him. I know he remembers what today is."

"Oh," said Christine, completely aware of what her friend meant. Today was April 15, 1913–the first year anniversary of the Titanic going under. Of course, anyone involved knew the significance of the day. For people like Rose and Cal, it changes lives dramatically.

"He pretends though. He pretends that everything's normal again. Or at least he tries to. He has this facade and it goes through...stages. Sometimes it's perfect and believable. Sometimes, it's shaky. And on some occasions, it breaks completely. Like this week for instance. This entire week, he was so withdrawn. I think I've only heard him say maybe...four words in this entire week. That's his new phase, he never talks. But today was different though. Today, all he did was just snap at everyone before he left the house in a huff. And I think I heard him all last night, in the living room, pacing the floor. He's gone completely mad, I think."

"Goodness," Christine said. She never knew how intense things were in the Hockley household. She never knew Caledon Hockley had such a temper. He always seemed to have everything under control. But now, as she learned that Cal couldn't even control his own mental state, she wondered how much control he really had. She asked Rose, "Do you two ever talk about what happened?"

"No, " Rose answered. She explained, "It was my fault at first really. I wasn't in the best mental state myself after what I went through that night. I was so...wrapped up in my thoughts that I didn't think of him. But now, I'm a little better. Colleen keeps me busy, I guess, but now I have to talk to Cal. I have something to tell him, but he doesn't..." Rose paused before she continued. "He doesn't even like me or care about me to stay around at home and listen."

"That's not true, Rose,"said Christine.

"Yes it is. You don't even know the whole story between him and I."

Christine looked up. "What is it?"

Rose looked away from her friend. " I wish I could tell you, but...I can't. All I can tell you is that it's my fault that Cal doesn't want to speak to me. It's my fault that he never wants to be home. He never comes home, you know. He's always out, and he never comes home until late in the night. He doesn't even want to_ look _at Colleen, but I can understand."

"Why not?" Christine asked. Christine always sensed that something was wrong with Rose. She knew Rose wasn't "better" as she claimed herself to be. She wished, Rose didn't tell herself she was okay. Or that something was "her fault".

"It's because of me. I was the one that caused everything."

"Caused what?" Christine sighed.

"I'll...I can't tell you...well not right now. But...if I ever do tell you, I have to trust you. You can't–"

"Rose," came a voice. Marta appeared behind the two women, with four month old Colleen whimpering in her arms. "Your daughter just woke up.

"Thank you Marta,"said Rose, as she took her daughter in her arms. She turned to Christine with the brightest of smiles on her face. "Do you want to hold her? She's growing so beautiful, don't you think? "

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Christine had mixed feelings about her friend, when she left that day.

She knew Rose and Cal went through a traumatic experience, but she didn't think life behind the closed doors of the Hockley household was so tense. She never suspected Cal to be the way Rose described him. Everyone knew Cal as the suave, even-tempered son of Nathaniel Hockley. But that was the public Caledon Hockley. What was he like to his wife and child? And why didn't he care for his daughter? She didn't quite understand that.

Rose was one of her best friends. They knew each other for a very long time. She knew Rose perfectly. Rose was never open to anyone, except Christine. She kept secrets and feelings from everyone, but when it came to Christine, she became a glass of water that was suddenly tipped over. The secret would easily spill from Rose's mouth once she found Christine. She never held anything back from Christine, and the reason why had to do with Christine's gift of listening and understanding. So...why was she keeping secrets now? The thought that her friend was suddenly keeping something from her insulted her. Didn't Rose know already that she was trustworthy? Didn't she tell Rose her secret? And didn't Rose keep it?

As she thought about that, she opened the door to her house after stepping out of the car. Night was creeping in as the beautiful April sunset began to fade away. She was thinking about spending the evening with her family, and having a nice dinner– thoughts that were completely trivial which contradicted with the events of her life.

The second she walked inside of the cool house, the maid, Lilian walked towards Christine, holding her son in her arms.

"Julius," cooed Christine, reaching for her son. It seemed as if nowadays, her son was the only thing that mattered to her. The only one that actually loved her. She wondered if that was what Rose was feeling.

She was enjoying her time with her son, suddenly realizing how big he was growing, until her time with her son was interrupted.

"Christine," came a voice from the top of the stairs. It was her husband, Spencer, a long time friend of Caledon Hockley. She wondered if Cal acted just like her husband.

"Hello, Spencer," she said in a cold voice.

"Where have you been?" he said, ignoring her greeting.

"I told you before I left. I spent a day with Rose...Mrs. Hockley."

"And where did you go after that?" he asked.

"That was it."

He walked down the stairs and then stared at his wife with his cold blue eyes, looking for a lie behind them. His wife only stared back with a defiant stare, determined not to give him the satisfaction of intimidating her. Finally he gave up trying to look.

"Hopefully, that's the truth," was all he said nastily, before he walked past her, leaving her with the same stone of guilt that had been weighing her down for the past year.


End file.
